


Maker's child

by Umerue



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fake Character Death, Fluff, Happy Ending, Magical Pregnancy, Not Beta Read, Romance, Superstition, The Chantry, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umerue/pseuds/Umerue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas and Lavellan have "Glad-to-Be-Alive Sex"  when she does not die in the avalanche at Haven. Unfortunately, there are consequences. Lavellan is well pleased with her pregnancy until she notices it has been going on for one year already and still there is no baby, the shemlen start a cult which believes she carries the child of the Maker and the seamstress rats her out to Josephine when the ugly red uniform doesn't fit. There is also the slight problem of Solas' mission and the vengeful gods who would love to get their hands on perfect hostage. Since leaving her behind isn't an option with all the mad cultists around, Solas has to find another solution. He decides to trick the whole world.</p><p>Written for k-meme prompt: "At some point pre-endgame, the egg manages to knock fem!Lavellan up, but things aren't all sunshine and roses. The politics behind presenting the semi-divine inquisitor having a child out of wedlock with an apostate elf of all things is complicated and dangerous, Lavellan still has rifts to close and a continent to save, certain parties, corypheus's forces or otherwise, have attempted to capitalize on the inquisitors 'weakness', and Solas is...well, his plans just got a lot more complicated."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maker's child

After Adamant, Lavellan had vomited for three days straight. She explained that taking six people physically through Fade had been taxing. Dorian wondered if ancient magisters storming the Golden City had been ill too, and told Solas to keep an eye on any black veins in case she was turning into darkspawn. On the evening of fourth day, she was looking rather darkspawnish and grey when she staggered down the stairs into a garden, and cut a selection of herbs under the moonlight.  
"My Keeper swears to this remedy.", she explained to Cassandra as the warrior helped her to drag a big black cauldron to her quarters. "It works wonders."  
After Cassandra left, there was nobody to hear Lavellan singing a quiet prayer to Mythal under her breath as she stirred the concoction.  
"Mythal, Great Protector, All-Mother. Grant me courage, grant me fierce pride; grant me a mother's heart and mother's strength.", she sang and channeled a bout of mana into cauldron. The green concoction sparkled and emitted a cloud of smoke.  
"I will be a shield which protects, I will be a sword which defends, I will be a true daughter of the People. On this night, I thank you for your gift, your blessing, and a new hope for the People."  
Smiling, she stirred the cauldron for one last time and filled her cup, walking to balcony to let it cool. Lavellan had not lied about her Keeper; the remedy never failed. Except it was meant to fend off the morning sickness, not some random tummy bug. It was first time she had cooked it for herself instead of some other woman of her clan.  
Lavellan looked at the snowy mountains, and a warm cup in her hands, and although she still felt weak and unwell, she smiled. A new hope for People, indeed. She hoped for a mage child she could raise to follow as her First. Surely the baby would grow up to be a mage with a father like Solas. Clan Lavellan would be overjoyed at news, and now they wouldn't care whether Solas was a flat-ear or not. Children were precious. Deshanna was getting old, and they had no Second. All she needed to do was to kill Corypheus and close the Breach, and then she could go home to give birth to her very own baby.

 

\--

 

Lavellan did not speak about her pregnancy to anyone and took great pains to shield her dreams in the Fade. It was the Dalish way; no sensible woman wanted to draw Fen'Harel's attention so he might catch a scent of her baby. One should not count her blessings beforehand unless she was willing to risk losing them . The reasonable part of Lavellan's mind was certain that Fen'Harel had better things to do than stalk unborn Dalish babies, but one could never be too careful. She simply made sure that she cooked up her herbal remedy every time they returned to Skyhold, and with it, she felt excellent. Her magic was stronger than ever.

 

She had every intention of telling Solas, but somehow the right moment never came up. After his confession of love on the balcony and night they had shared on Exalted Plains, they met mostly in the Fade. She couldn't tell him in the Fade - it would have been baiting the Lord of Nightmares for sure! They often shared a tent, but most mage armors were comfortable enough to sleep in, and she didn't want to risk some assassin getting a clear stab on her stomach. Solas had not lied when he said that things were easier for him in the Fade. He had not seen her naked for a long time, and for some reason, her stomach was still quite flat. But Lavellan knew the date of conception, and as First, she had seen many women through their pregnancies safely. That she wasn't type to show early was surely blessing from All-Mother herself. Lavellan added thanks for that to her prayer-spell when she cooked another batch of morning sickness remedy, adding herbs which strengthened her womb.  
When her second trimester began, Lavellan had reached a conclusion that surely Solas had figured it out by now, but had decided to keep the baby safe by not telling anyone. If the Inquisition did not know, her enemies wouldn't either, and as far as Lavellan was concerned, this was how it was supposed to be.

 

Her fifth month was soon ending, and Lavellan was starting to get worried. She had summoned Dalish from Chargers to her quarters because Lavellan needed a second opinion from someone she could trust to ward herself against the Dread Wolf.  
Josephine had brought a full-length mirror to Inquisitor's chambers after the Antivan had secured invitations to Halamshiral ball. There was talk about dresses being made. Lavellan had stripped herself naked and stood in front of the mirror under her fellow mage's appraising gaze.  
"You are right.", Dalish said slowly. "The gift looks like three months, not six."  
"I know!", Lavellan said, sounding agitated. "But everything feels just fine, and I'm certain of date."  
"Have you noticed the halla crossing over Exalted Plains?", Dalish used the idiom for baby kicking.  
"Yes. It happens regularly. The halla are strong."  
"I can think of two things.", Dalish said. "Maybe it's the shemlen diet. You need fresh game and herbs instead of shemlen bread and porridge. No hunter can grow on fluffy cakes."  
"Yes.", Lavellan nodded resolutely. No more fluffy cakes, even though Solas loved them and Lavellan had a standing order in Val Royeaux bakery. It made sense. No elven child could grow properly on shemlen food. The shems boiled and baked everything until it was completely dead. No Dalish mother ate like Inquisitor did.  
"And another thing to consider is the anchor.", Dalish continued. "You mentioned Solas had asked if it had changed you in some way. Maybe it has."  
"It's worrying thought.", Lavellan said, biting her lip.  
"Banish it.", Dalish said firmly. "Uncertainty is the first step outside the camp, where He Who Hunts Alone waits. Let's change your diet first. I will talk to Loranil. He will make sure that there is fresh game for you, and I will prepare it myself when you are at Skyhold. If that does not work, I will write to my Keeper and you contact yours. And maybe your flat-ear lover has answers."

 

\--

 

It had been a long day closing rifts in the Emerald Graves. It was Dorian's turn to cook, which meant something strongly flavored and hot. Dorian could not really cook, but he made it up by using so much chili that nobody tasted anything else.  
"I think I'll go to bathe in the river.", Lavellan announced, slipping a quiver of arrows over her shoulder. "A long soak is just what I need after today."  
"Do you always bathe with a bow?", Dorian arched his eyebrows. "Curious thing for a mage."  
"I have been closing rifts all day, Dorian. A bow is good thing to have when one is running low on mana.", Lavellan said firmly. "I'm fair enough shot to defend myself if something comes up."  
"Couldn't you just ingest a lyrium potion like everybody else?", Dorian suggested.  
"It's not healthy habit.", Lavellan announced and left the camp.

When time passed and Lavellan did not come back, Solas decided to check on her.  
"I will go to river to check if everything is in order.", he said, pushing away his bowl.  
"Good idea, Solas.", Iron Bull nodded. "Boss has been quite careful lately, but it never hurts to be sure she's all right."  
"And have a nice bath!", Dorian shouted after him.  


He was not prepared to sight which waited for him. There was a dead bear on the shore, neatly skinned and cut, and her clothes and bow were placed next to it. Lavellan herself was happily munching on something bloody, standing waist-high in the river. She was.. rather curvy. Solas didn't remember her breasts looking like that.  
"What are you doing?", he asked.  
"Do you want a bite? Bear's liver is just delicious.", Lavellan asked happily. "Much better than Dorian's cooking."  
"No, thank you.", Solas replied.  
"Since you are here, would you mind helping me to take all this meat back to camp?", Lavellan asked, gesturing towards the remains of the bear on the opposite shore. "I think this will keep me fed for two weeks if I preserve it properly."  
He was just going to tell her yes, when she rose from the water and started walking towards the shore. Solas felt blood draining from his face as he saw the swollen curve of her belly. There was no mistaking it. Unable to think a single comprehensive thought, his knees went soft, and he sat down on the ground before he fainted. Oh, _fenedhis_ , no!  
"Solas? Are you all right?", Lavellan asked. Her voice was worried, and she ran to him, still naked.  
"How? How long you have..", he tried to find the right words as she helped him up again.  
"I though you knew.", Lavellan said, looking aghast. "I was sure you knew."  
"How could I know! You never said anything!", Solas snapped.  
"Of course I didn't! It's the Dalish way, and I thought you knew but had decided to play it safe, out of respect. We do not speak of these things.", the expression on Lavellan's face was shocked and honest. "Doing so brings ill luck, and with all enemies I have, I didn't want to risk it. The elders say that Dread Wolf might catch her scent, but I'm more worried about Corypheus and all my other enemies. If Inquisition knew, it would only take one slip..."  
"Dread Wolf? What about Dread Wolf?", Solas asked furiously. "Don't say that the Dalish have some idiotic idea of Fen'Harel preying on unborn children!"  
Lavellan bit her lip, and it was all the answer he needed. Solas cursed fiercely and pulled himself away, vanishing in the woods.

 

Bear's liver had lost it's appeal when Lavellan returned to camp alone. She gave the orders to pack up the meat, and changed a few words with Dorian and Iron Bull, but she was not in the mood for chat. As soon as she closed the tent flap behind her, she burst into tears.

How could she have been such a fool? They had never discussed a future together, and Solas spoke very little about his past. For all that she knew, he might already have a bond-mate and a dozen children somewhere. With his disdain towards the Dalish, Lavellan had been a fool to think he would respect her culture or understand her reasoning. Among the Dalish, the partners did not have sex if they weren't ready to welcome a child; a pregnancy was considered a blessing, a sign from Mythal herself that she approved their joining. She knew nothing of how elves outside the Dalish clans dealt with these things; shemlen were equally foreign to her. But apparently the way Solas saw these things was nothing like she had thought. She had misunderstood everything, starting from their relationship to their child. Her child, it seemed now.

Lavellan cried herself to sleep that night. Even the butterfly-like movements under her skin could not soothe her. He did not come to their shared tent during the night, and when morning came, Lavellan emerged with red-rimmed eyes but steely resolution. She was First of Lavellan. She could do this without him if she had to.

 

\--

 

Her diet of wild game and herbs worked too well. The seamstress who had taken her measurements a month ago freaked out when the trousers of ugly red uniform no longer fit the Inquisitor and prattled her observations to Josephine. The advisors didn't take it well.  
"Are you seriously considering continuing this, Inquisitor?", Josephine asked, her voice aghast. "A child born out of wedlock will be disastrous to our plans to win the Orlesian nobility."  
"Andraste had five children, two from her own body, and nobody cares about that.", Lavellan replied firmly.  
"But having a child whose father is elven apostate..", Leliana started.  
" _I'm_ elven apostate.", Lavellan cut. "You can tell everyone that the Maker is the father of my child. Maybe the Orlesians will like that better. And by the way, we'd better hurry with defeating Corypheus, because there is no way I'm having and raising my baby alone in Skyhold. Before my time comes, I'm going to return to my parents and my clan, like a proper First should do."  
She stormed out from war room, ran the stairs up to her quarters, and locked the door. The advisors stayed behind, looking at each other.  
"The Maker-idea could have some credit.", Josephine said slowly.  
"Don't go there. Just don't.", Cullen pleaded.

 

They got through the Winter Palace by switching the original plan of military uniforms for everyone to A-line gown for Lavellan and all female companions. Josephine was bothered by a gnawing suspicion that Lavellan had placed Gaspard on the throne and Briala behind him just to spite her, but Leliana was pleased.  
It had became apparent that Inquisitor and Solas had some kind of fallout in Emerald Graves; he was no longer sharing a tent with her. Inquisitor treated him with cool courtesy and spent most of her time alone in her rooms. She had taken up a new hobby, knitting, and finished a cardigan after a cardigan. Leliana's spies reported that the baby would be ready to weather the first two years of her life in frozen place like Dragonbone Wastes easily.

 

Lavellan's retort about Maker had gained ground. Josephine was almost convinced that it wasn't true, but there was something seriously odd with Inquisitor's pregnancy. It just.. went on forever. The servants responsible for Inquisitor's laundry swore that it had been twelve months since they had gotten bloody rags to wash, and the timing fit with Lavellan's bout of sickness after Adamant fortress, but there was still no baby. Every elf Josephine had interviewed had assured her that elves normally gave birth after nine months, just like humans, and the child being full-blooded elf made no difference. Although Lavellan had given up her beige outfit, and wore loose gowns around Skyhold, she looked maybe six months along, not twelve. Nobody could be twelve months pregnant. It simply did not happen. When Josephine tried to discuss the issue, Lavellan got a panicked look on her face and fled to her room, locking the door. Cassandra and Leliana didn't succeed any better, and finally Josephine marched to Solas.  
"Master Solas.", she greeted the apostate courteously. "I have a matter of sensitive nature we must discuss."  
Solas visibly withdrew, looking at her.  
"I'm afraid I have no idea of what you are talking about.", he said.  
"I think you do. Please come into my office.", Josephine said, giving him no ground. Finally, the apostate put away his paintbrush and followed the ambassador to her office.

"I wish to discuss the Inquisitor.", Josephine began, pouring them both a glass of wine. "Lately we have gotten several very worrying messages from Leliana's people. There is a faction of very devout Chantry followers who actually believe the Maker is the father of her child."  
Upon hearing her words, Solas splurted out his wine. Although Josephine thought the sight of wine running out of someone's nose was generally unpleasant, it told her much about apostate's reaction.  
"The group is very influential among Orlesian nobility, and they are said to have Venatori connections.", Josephine continued. "Leliana believes that they will either try to kidnap the Inquisitor now or the baby after birth. And as always, there is an opposing faction. Grand Cleric Victoire has started spreading a rumor that the baby is a result from consorting with a demon. I believe I do not need to tell you how dangerous such claims can be, especially if the Inquisitor decides to return to her clan as she has announced."  
The look in Solas' eyes was pained, but Josephine pressed on:  
"As long as there is no visible partner on Inquisitor's side, these rumors will continue to grow stronger. And we are very worried about her health. She refuses to see any physicians or midwives we've sent to her. But the truth is, master Solas, that no living woman can be pregnant for twelve months. Mother Giselle says that there is the grim possibility that her baby is not a baby at all, but a malignant growth in her womb, which will kill her. It would be a loss Thedas could ill afford."  
"No.", Solas said to himself, shaking his head.  
"She does not listen to us, but she might listen to you. I beg you, master Solas. Whatever has happened between you, the fate of Thedas and the fate of Inquisitor depend on you. She must accept our help. The rumors must be put to rest. She will not survive otherwise.", Josephine pleaded. "All I ask is that you speak with her. She might give you the answers she won't give to us."

 

\--

 

So Solas found himself climbing up the stairs to Inquisitor's rooms. This had been a complication in his plan he had never foreseen, and the anchor was not making it any easier. Solas knew very well that the peculiarities in Inquisitor's current state had nothing to do with the Maker or demons. The anchor had changed her physiology more than he had expected; the elvhen used to carry their children for fifteen months while the rare examples of children of elvhen and modern elves were born within twelve months, and the elves of this age carried like humans. The thought of Lavellan's apparent immortality filled him with relief and joy; but at the same time, it filled his mind with worries. He had to release his brethren and undo the damage he had done. There was no question of it. He had to help the People, and that was the only way. But his original plan of saving Lavellan from the wrath of Creators by walking away from her would not work, if it meant abandoning her and their child to mercy of shemlen. Solas could not stomach the idea of leaving them behind to be killed by ignorant humans who thought the child as a demon spawn who had to be killed. The fate of being a child of the Maker wasn't any better than being known as the child of Fen'Harel. There were reasons why Creators did not have children. They were too fragile, too easy to take advantage of. Perfect hostages.

The Inquisitor was in her room. Lavellan was sitting in front of fire, neatly stitching sleeves on the body of green jumpsuit. There was a pile of finished garments next to her on the side table. Her figure was well-rounded by now, and she was pale, looking exhausted. Iron Bull had mentioned something about latest rift being hard on her.  
"Inquisitor.", Solas made his presence known.  
She startled visibly, turning to look at him. When she stood up, he noticed that her movements were stiff, and the armored boots had left deep marks on her swollen legs.  
"How may I help you?", she asked, her face a mask of perfect politeness. "Does it have to do something with the news about Morrigan's discovery of the temple of Mythal in Arbor Wilds?"  
"Although I have to admit I would be pleased to accompany you there, I must discuss a private matter with you.", he began nervously. "It would be best if we could converse in the Fade.. For privacy."  
"Ah", she said, glancing at the door. "I see."  
Sighing, Lavellan walked to bed and threw the covers aside.  
"I could use a nap.", she admitted, sounding tired. "It's getting harder to keep up with the rifts."  
She patted at the second pillow.  
"Come, Solas.", she said. "Let's talk. I promise not to touch you or disturb you in any way."  
"It was never about that, vhenan.", Solas said quietly, not missing the wounded look in her eyes. "I will explain everything to you."

They laid down on the bed, and he threw his arm over her, pressing against her back. She was too tired to say anything, but just snuggled against him, and soon her breath evened out. Solas felt all too clearly how much her body had changed since their separation at the river. He could feel the restless turning of the baby under his hand, and it scared and enticed him at the same time. If only this had happened in another world, in better time and place. But surely he had been old enough to know what might happen. Fen'Harel did not need stories about bees and flowers. As he felt the child twisting and turning under her skin, he promised would not leave Lavellan or their baby without answers, no matter how badly she would take it. As solutions went; he didn't have any of those. Not yet.

 

***

 

"I am Fen'Harel.", he began, knowing that if he started with any other words, he might lose his courage. "The elven orb Corypheus wields is mine."  
Lavellan stared at him. There was disbelief on her face, anger, and then it all suddenly collapsed to hysterical laugh. She laughed so hard that tears ran over her face.  
"I was not joking, Inquisitor!", Solas exclaimed. "I swear to you, it is true!"  
Lavellan hid her face in her hands, wiping the tears from her face and trying to calm down.  
"Do you have any idea what I've gone through? You claiming to be Fen'Harel is far better than the worst theories I've thought of during last year!", she said angrily, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I've delivered dozens of babies as a First. Nobody is pregnant for entire year! At first I thought the shemlen diet was not nutritious enough to make the baby grow, and I had to hunt the bloody bears to make it right! Have you any idea how bad raw bear liver tastes? But still it just went on and on, and I've started to almost believe in demon theory myself. My magic is ridiculously strong. I tried to light up a torch, and accidentally scorched the whole cave system with a wall of fire! I have horrible nightmares and I can't see my own feet and there is a shemlen cult which believes I'm actually carrying a child of the Maker. Oh, by Maferath's hairy arse, they are right! In a way, those damned idiots are actually right!"  
She started to laugh again, but it sounded more like sobs this time.  
"I will deal with whole orb and Fen'Harel thing later, but right now, you could claim to be bloody Elgar'nan, for all I care. Just please tell me that the baby is not a demon or some kind of magical wolf from ancient Arlathan, and I won't be pregnant until I die of old age."  
"Vhenan, the anchor has changed you. It has made you immortal. I thought you knew. You won't die from old age, and there is nothing wrong with the baby. The elvhen carry for fifteen months."  
Lavellan's eyes grew wide and then she started to cry. Solas embraced her, trying to soothe her raging emotions best he could. He cursed himself inwardly. How frightened she must have been if Fen'Harel as a father of her child was a relief compared to her other theories?  
"From now on, Solas, we do not assume that either of us knows anything which has not been said out loud.", she muttered against his shoulder.  
"Agreed.", he sighed, stroking her hair. "Please accept my apologies. And the only gift I can give to you. There is something I must tell you about the marks you wear, the vallaslin.."

 

\--

 

Lavellan had never slept so much in her life as she did during next two weeks. She woke up to eat, wash and visit the war room to hear the latest reports on how their attempts of gathering an army to march to Arbor Wilds was progressing. The rest of her day, she slept, spooning with Solas.  
The plans they made in Fade were no less hurried or desperate than the ones she made with her advisors in war room. It had taken days for him to explain everything, and still there was much Lavellan did not understand. But she knew and recognized the mission which drove him forwards.

"So. I will take the orb back from Corypheus and you will use it to release the rest of your.. kind.", she said, sitting on a rock in pretty glade. She recognized the place from waking world. It was the wyvern nest in Crestwood.  
"I doubt Corypheus will just agree to give the orb to you, but yes, recovering it is of utmost importance.", Solas replied, striding back and forth with his hands behind his back. "I have to undo what I did. I thought it was right choice at the time, but I never thought it would rob the People of everything."  
"And what will happen to you?", Lavellan asked.  
His expression was filled with sadness and regret as he turned to look at her. Her unmarked face was so beautiful.  
"Nothing good, vhenan. I am so sorry. I never meant to let things go this far between us. So-called gods are petty and cruel, and they will not listen to reason when I wake them up. The path I must walk.. I would not wish it for my worst enemy, and least of all to you and our baby.", Solas said.  
"I originally thought.. I thought that if I ended the relationship between us, they would have no reason to search for you. But now it will not be enough to protect you.", his voice was anguished. "They will see you and the baby as a way to get to me. And even if we leave my brothers and sisters out of equation, even if I put my plans on hold and let the People continue their suffering while I'm living happily, there is Corypheus, and the Chantry dissonant, and several groups of assassins preying on your life. I've read Leliana's reports. They are alarming. The half of Thedas is out there to get us."  
Lavellan smoothed her dress and looked at Solas. Her eyes were bright and sad as she said:  
"I don't want to raise a child whose future is limited to life in alienage or who will spend the rest of her days wandering in the woods, homeless. The Dalish will never accept us now. I love you, Solas, and I'm terrified to think what might happen to you. But I recognize it must be done. Despite what will happen to us."  
"You can't say that!", he snarled. "You can't just.. accept it!"  
"How can you say the life of our child outweighs the lives of every elven child in Skyhold? Of every elven child born to the Dalish, or in alienages? She is precious to me, and I love her, but every mother loves her child in same way. And if we fail the elves now, we will fail our baby worst of all.", Lavellan said, her face the mask of Inquisitor. He had never thought that the same wisdom he had fallen in love with would cut so deep when the clarity of her judgement turned on their own family.  
"You can't say you truly want her to live her days in a world which is nothing but a shadow of what once was?", Lavellan continued. "Will she be imprisoned in a Circle Tower and abused by templars if she grows up to be a mage or will the Chantry burn both of us in a stake like they did to Andraste when someone decides the Inquisition was heretical movement after all? Do you have any idea of what my own family would do to her for being the child of Fen'Harel? To me? Your plan is terrifying, but I can't see any way for this turning out well for us, so all we can do is to choose the best way to go."  
"He's a boy.", Solas said, his thoughts working desperately on solution. Any solution. This could simply not be.  
"She's a girl.", Lavellan announced firmly. "A sweet baby with lots of ginger hair."  
"You can't just wave away an impeding death of all of us and engage me in an argument about the color of his hair!", Solas snapped, frustrated.  
"I face death every day, my love. Closing rifts, battling demons and slaying red templars isn't exactly the recommended way to pass time for a pregnant woman.", Lavellan said calmly. "I could die today or tomorrow, and we would be gone just the same. I prefer to take my chances while I still can."  
Solas was going to counter her argument, when the solution came to him with a clarity of a falling star. A relieved smile lighted his expression, and a huge burden was lifted from his heart.  
"You are a genius, vhenan. That's what we'll do.", he said, lifting her up and kissing her with wild joy. "That's how I'll keep you safe."  
"I'm not saying I'm not thrilled, but please explain.", Lavellan begged, breathless.  
"We'll trick them.", Solas announced with glee. "We'll make everyone think you both died."

 

\--

 

"Surely the light of the Maker shines upon you, Blessed Lady.", one of nobles murmured as the Inquisitor passed by in the market of Val Royeaux.  
"Remember me in your prayers, Blessed Lady. My husband and I wish for a baby of our own. Ask the Maker to look upon us. We have always been devout people."  
"I must write to Emperor and urge him to begin a new Exalted March upon the remaining heretics in Thedas, as soon as the new Divine is chosen.", a male voice explained behind Solas' back. "The scholars of the Chantry believe that the Maker chose an elf to show us that when all elves bow to words of Andraste, Maker shall return to us."  
"I wonder if they did it in missionary position.", a woman giggled.  
Disgusted, he walked faster, and when he reached Lavellan, he slipped his arm around her waist, leaning close to whisper in her ear.  
"Is it always like this?", he asked in low voice.  
"More or less.", she replied quietly, grateful for the support of his arm around her waist. Or what had been her waist a year ago. "I prefer to avoid Val Royeaux as much as I can. I would not have came at all if I didn't have to attend Marquis Wiscotte's fete to speak with Minister Bellise about Josephine's family. I swear, if one more stranger there tries to rub my stomach for divine blessing, I will bite their hands off."  
"The humans do that?", Solas asked, astonished.  
"Yes!", Lavellan grimaced. "It's some disgusting Orlesian thing. They do it for everyone but after the Maker rumor started, it has gotten way worse."  
"In the ancient Arlathan, anyone would not have dared--"  
"Here you are.", Vivienne said smoothly as she approached them with Iron Bull. "Time to go inside, my dear. The second bell just rang. Do try not to bump into people by accident. It's such a humiliating sight to witness."  
"I will do my own, pitiful best not to offend the sensibilities of Orlesian nobility.", Lavellan muttered poisonously.  
"Grudge never earned any favors, my dear.", Vivienne remarked as they glided inside the building.

 

Maybe an hour later she came to see Solas. Her expression was thoroughly shocked and there was a fiery blush on her face.  
"Are you all right, Inquisitor?", he asked quickly, looking for any signs of damage.  
"No. I mean yes.", she shook her head. "I just... Minister Bellise had a very specific favor in her mind for agreeing to elevate the du Paraquettes. I don't know what would have happened if Iron Bull had not stepped in and charmed her off her feet."  
"What did she want?", Solas asked.  
"She wanted to 'touch what Maker has touched'.", Lavellan said, looking dazed. "Apparently there is a rumor going on that sex with me will keep their breasts perky and nether regions unwrinkled."  
Solas couldn't help it. He started to laugh.  
"Don't you dare!", Lavellan hissed at him. "This is your fault! I'm huge and disgusting and the shems are making weird propositions at me!"  
"You are not huge and disgusting.", Solas said, wiping his eyes on a handkerchief. "You are lovely and radiant like stars. I think I must test the theory. At my age, one can't be too careful with avoiding wrinkles."  
She was trying to think of clever rebutt when one of the liveried servants brushed behind her, and suddenly she felt a piercing pain in her back.  
"Long live the Elder One!", a voice shouted. The last thing Lavellan remembered was Solas rushing to catch her as she fall, and the anger twisting his features.

 

\--

Thanks to her habit of wearing armor under her loose dresses, she had merely gotten a nasty wound. She had gotten worse while trying to close the rifts. But it seemed to signify an open hunting season for Inquisitor Lavellan.

\--

It was during the long march to Arbor Wilds when Josephine noticed Lavellan's face had changed. Her cheekbones were sharp and pronounced under her vallaslin and she looked thin with exception of her swollen stomach. There was peculiar, faint glow which seemed to shine through her skin. It was the same green as the anchor.  
"Inquisitor. Are you all right? Have you been eating properly?", Josephine asked. There had been an accident in the kitchens. Leliana's spies had caught an Orlesian bard passing herself as a kitchen servant. The spymaster suspected she had been sent there to poison the Inquisitor, but the woman had not confessed yet. After that, Lavellan had began to have her meals in her room, alone with Solas.  
"I am fine.", Lavellan said. "There is no need for you to worry, Josephine."  
"But I am worried. You don't look healthy at all, and you spend so much time sleeping.", Josephine pleaded. "I would be much assured if you let one of our healers to see you. I know an excellent Antivan mage who specializes in difficult pregnancies. Enchanter Tomaso is favored by Queen of Antiva herself."  
"Josephine, I am fine.", Lavellan repeated. "As fine as a woman can be when she is leading an army to face her sworn enemy. Our fight does not allow me the same luxuries as queen of Antiva may enjoy. But the Dalish are strong. We make do."  
"Of course, Inquisitor.", Josephine had the grace to look ashamed.

 

Solas had quietly followed the discussion between Inquisitor and Ambassador. It had been him who had tipped off Leliana about the bard in the kitchens. One learned all kinds of things from the dreams in Fade, and it had given them a perfect excuse to dine in private. Or, in Lavellan's case, to stop eating entirely.  
Teaching her to draw sustenance solely from the Fade so late in her pregnancy was not something Solas relished on. But it was necessary for their deception, and failure was not an option. She had to master the skill now, because both of their lives, her and the baby, would rely on that for a long, long time.

He knew that the moment was getting closer with each passing day, and it brought a new feeling to their relationship. Every fleeting smile shared across the campfire was treasured; they no longer spoke of future when they walked the Fade. They shared old memories and stories instead, remembering their first kiss at Haven and their shared night after the destruction of Haven, filled with relief of their survival. Every touch a reassurance, a prayer of thanks. But now the plan was set, and their time was running out. Ironic problem for two immortal beings, and Solas wished with all his heart that it didn't have to be so. He could feel her time was coming near. Her magic was restless, her eyes bright, and the little vial of clear liquid in his pocket weighed like a stone. He wanted to throw it down from the battlements, to see it vanish among the endless snow surrounding Skyhold, or lose it into rushing waterfalls surrounding Mythal's temple. But it would not be so.

 

\--

"Will you promise to be careful?", Lavellan whispered in the darkness of their room in Skyhold. Morrigan had gone off to gloat about her newfound wisdom given by Well, and Lavellan had called it early night, but she could not sleep. She was feeling an odd rush of energy which kept her awake, and her senses were unnaturally sharp, much like before a battle.  
"I will do everything I can to survive.", Solas said, his eyes sad. "But if I don't come back, you must--"  
"No.", Lavellan said, silencing him with a kiss. "Just remember I love you. We love you."  
"I will.", he said, tasting the salt in her lips.  
"I don't repent any of this.", she said. "I have been happy with you, Solas."  
"I will miss you.", he whispered against her skin, willing to feel her under his hands one more time.

 

\--

 

Solas knelt in the ruins of Haven, holding the unbroken orb in his hands. His blood was still tingling from the recent battle against Corypheus. He swallowed, not being able to believe that the first part of his mad gamble had actually succeeded. The orb was here now, the power his to command, although the cost to open it had been enormous. He--  
"Solas.", Lavellan's voice called him.  
"Vhenan, I can't believe you did it.", he said, touching the familiar carved surface with careful fingertips and smiled. "You saved my orb."  
"Solas.", her voice was pained and sharp. "Now is not the time. My waters broke when the bastard threw me against the stone floor."  
Solas closed his eyes and put the orb carefully in the pouch he carried in his belt. The happiness of the moment disappeared, as he turned to face Lavellan. The others were already calling her name in the lower ruins. There was no time.  
"I love you. I'm so sorry.", he said, taking the vial from his pocket.  
"I love you too. Please be careful.", she said through her tears as he uncorked the vial and she took it, drinking every last drop. She drew a pained breath, and her eyes glazed over, her body falling on his waiting arms.  
"Help!", Solas shouted, holding his lover. "Cassandra! Come quickly! The Inquisitor needs help!"

 

\--

 

Dorian knew how births should generally go. There would be a lot of screaming, people running with towels and hot water - he wasn't entirely sure what was the deal with hot water before the baby was actually born and needed a bath, but people got upset if one started asking why - and friends were supposed to drink themselves senseless while the future father paced nervously, pleading for news every time someone came down the stairs.  
This birth was eerily silent. No sound at all came from Inquisitor's quarters, where Solas, Cassandra and Dalish had closed themselves with Inquisitor and that fancy Antivan healer Josephine had invited weeks ago. The servants walked back and forth periodically, carrying basins covered with towels, but none of them were smiling. Dorian didn't like it. They had just saved the world from a mad magister, damn it! If there ever was a reason to smile, it would be now!

Josephine made a great effort to brighten the mood, and she almost had gotten the party going, when the door leading to Inquisitor's quarters opened again and Cassandra walked out. Everyone fell silent. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying. With great effort, she straightened her back and addressed the gathered crowd:  
"It's my sad duty to tell you all that lady Inquisitor Lavellan, who fought for all of us to save the world from Corypheus, has passed to Maker's side, along with her newborn son. May they both find peace in Maker's arms."

"No!", Dorian cried out. "It can't happen like this. I won't allow it."  
He dashed towards the Inquisitor's quarters, dodging the Iron Bull's arm which tried to stop him, and ran to upstairs. The door was unlocked, and he slammed it open, wanting to see Lavellan's annoyed face for interrupting her happy moment. But he was met by Solas, who sat by the bed, cradling a little form wrapped in a clean towel. It was too still. Just like Lavellan, who laid on the bed, her skin whiter than the sheets stained by blood. Someone had drawn a sheet to cover the lower part of her body.  
"No.", Dorian said again. He stepped closer to bed. Maybe it had not been too long; he was necromancer, he had to try - at least one of them, Maker, please.  
"Dorian.", Solas' strong grip on his arm stopped him. The apostate's face was wet with tears. "Could you give me one of those green cardigans on the table. I don't want him to feel cold."  
Dorian looked at little face in the crook of Solas' arm. A tuft of ginger hair peeked from under the towel, and the baby's face was like a marble statue, abstractly beautiful in stillness. The baby had the most perfect little elven ears Dorian had ever seen. What Dorian wouldn't have given for red, unattractive, loud newborn baby with big, ugly jug-ears.  
"Of course.", Dorian tried to say, but he had something stuck in his throat. Blindly, he tried to pick the nicest one of the numerous green cardigans littering Lavellan's desk. If a young man was to have only one set of clothes in his life, they should be the best. Uncle Dorian would make sure of it.

 

\--

 

The Inner Circle agreed wholeheartedly to Solas' wish that their grave should not become a target for mad cultists and other looters wanting to have a piece of "Blessed lady and Maker's child.". They held two funerals. First was a public spectacle where Divine Victoria herself planted a tree to commemorate Inquisitor's memory. She was buried to Var Bellanaris, by request of her clan and Marquise Briala.

The second was quiet affair with only the members of Inner Circle present. Lavellan and her baby were laid to rest in ancient funeral chamber deep within the bowels of Skyhold. Solas said that he had seen it used for such a purpose when the elves had originally built the place, and it's location had been preserved in the memories of Fade. It had taken a week of digging to unearth the place, but Dorian had welcomed the work. It had kept him from thinking.

It was hard to believe they were really dead. Had Dorian not touched Lavellan's cold skin and felt she no longer drew breath, he would have said she was just sleeping. Solas was the one to carry Lavellan and lay her down on old stone platform. He tucked the baby, warmly dressed in green wool, into crook of her right arm. It was heartbreaking to watch him gently bend Lavellan's left hand to cover baby's little head. He placed Lavellan's staff next to her and turned to face the Inner Circle, looking like a man who had lost everything.  
"Before we seal the door to this chamber, I would like a moment alone with them.", he said softly.  
"Of course.", Cassandra said. "Just don't do anything foolish."  
"I won't.", Solas promised, and they withdrew to give him privacy.

When he was alone in the chamber, Solas took a vial from his pocket and uncorked it. Carefully, he opened baby's lips and counted the drops. One, two. No more. The paleness of death began to recede, and his heart skipped a beat while he waited. Finally he saw baby's chest rise and fall.  
"Sleep well, my son.", he whispered, moving to Lavellan and repeating the procedure with ten drops. When he was sure she was breathing again as well, he pressed a kiss on her lips.  
"I will try to come back to you. I promise.", he whispered in her ear.  
She did not answer, but he hoped she could hear him, deep in uthenera she was. Solas checked once more that the anchor was touching baby's skin, providing him with sustenance from Fade he could not yet withdraw himself. Oh, how he wished to linger, but there was no time.  
Solas ignited the ancient runes of protection carved on the surface where they laid. The Dread Wolf looked at his family for one last time and then turned away. He sealed the door leading to burial chamber under the watchful eyes of Inner Circle and told them he wished no longer to stay in Skyhold, where he had lost so much. They understood, and Fen'Harel left to meet his fate.

 

\--

 

It was said that Fen'Harel had woken up after his long slumber and found the world gone awry. He fought to bring back those days of magic and shadow, and set things right. The People were left with a great scar across the sky, reminding them of the day when an eluvian inside Golden City was opened and Elgar'nan, in his rage, ripped the Veil itself. Those who had been locked away for so long were freed to walk on Thedas once again. A great victory against the shemlen was won, but it left world forever changed.

 

\--

A group of elves crossed the snowy mountains. Once a shemlen castle had stood there, but there were nothing but the ruins left by now. The war against humans had wiped it out entirely, and the once proud walls had collapsed. The oldest of them remembered the war against the shemlen and Mythal's return to Elgar'nan's side, which had ended Dread Wolf's torment in the hands of his brothers and sisters. It had taken a long time for Fen'Harel to recover, but he had fought in the final battle on their side, and the shemlen were driven away from the borders of Elvhenan.  
Assan, a young mage in his service, was wondering why his master had chosen such a remote spot for the seat of his power. Assan had been present in the meeting where Mythal had offered Fen'Harel any boon he might wish for, and all the Dread Wolf had asked for had been this forsaken place and peace for everyone within it's walls.  
"Tarasyl'an Tel'as.", Fen'Harel said to his followers. "We will stay here, and rebuild."  
He took a shovel and walked around the ruins. Assan could feel his magic searching for something. Suddenly Fen'Harel stopped, and his lips curved into a smile.  
"We will dig here.", he announced, and the elves got into work. The adults started to build a shelter and the young ones dug.

 

After several days of hard labor, aided significantly with magic, the young ones had unearthed very old stairs leading downwards.  
"These must be ancient.", one of the youths said. "Before the Breach."  
"No, they are much older.", Fen'Harel told him. "They predate the Breach, and the Veil itself. They were built in the days of first Elvhenan."  
"Oh.", a girl said, his eyes wide. "The first Elvhenan? Not the second?"  
"No.", Fen'Harel shook his head. He was a patient teacher, and well-loved by those who chose to follow him.  
"What is in there?", a boy asked.  
"Dig more, and you shall see.", Fen'Harel told him. "My greatest treasure lies there."

 

The work progressed, and with each revealed step of the stairs, the excitement among Fen'Harel's followers grew. Even the adults could not help but to be curious, although they concentrated their efforts on recasting the magic which provided shelter and warmth from the cold winds in the mountains. Finally, one day, one of the youths ran to inform Fen'Harel that they had found a very old door which emanated magic.  
"Do not touch it, da'len.", Fen'Harel said. "The runes will harm you if you try to approach."

They all waited while their master bathed and changed his clothes, and then told the cook to prepare food, for there would be a celebration. Fen'Harel asked one of the women to milk the halla and heat some milk. They had dragged a halla with a young foal all way up these mountains, and Assan had repeatedly wondered why.

Fen'Harel descended the stairs, and Assan followed him with the others. They all were eager to see. The boy felt his master dispelling the runes of protection cast upon the door, and the heavy door slid aside.

It was a burial chamber, furnished only with a stone platform. The runes carved on it's surface shone faintly in the darkness, and when Fen'Harel ignited the veilfire torch on the wall, Assan saw something was laying there. He could make out a staff leaning against the platform, placed there like someone would reach for it any moment, and something.. Someone wearing a fine armor of ancient design was laying on the platform, a woman. Assan could see a glimpse of green in the crook of her arm. He scarcely could believe his own eyes. A baby. She held a baby dressed in green wool, and the warmth of their breaths steamed in cold air entering in the chamber.  
"It is time to wake up, vhenan.", Fen'Harel whispered, and Assan knew he would never forget the look of terrible hope in Dread Wolf's face as he bent down to kiss her lips.

The woman stirred, slowly opening her eyes. They shone in the dim light, and a smile spread all over her face as her eyes focused on Fen'Harel.  
"Solas.", she said in shemlen trade tongue, her voice filled with tears of joy. "You made it. You actually made it. My love, I was so frightened for you."  
She pulled Fen'Harel down to kiss him, and the baby woke up, emitting a loud and annoyed wail which echoed from the walls of burial chamber. Woman blinked, letting go from Fen'Harel momentarily, and turned to stare at the baby.  
"Oh.", she said in small voice. "A girl with lots of ginger hair. Just like I said."  
"A boy.", Fen'Harel said, teasing. "Just like I said."  
"You are lying again, Solas.", the woman said, sitting up and lifting the baby against her shoulder.  
"Not this time, vhenan.", Fen'Harel said, smiling. "A boy. I think we should name him Enansal."  
"Enansal. I like it.", woman said, tasting the word on her tongue. "What does it mean?"  
"Gift or blessing, vhenan. As you both are to me."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite amused with myself. Fluffiest piece I've ever written and even then, there is a fake death. Of a baby. I'm hopeless.


End file.
